Just Impolite
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: Takes place after "Alive With The Glory". Can Ivan really bring himself to trust Tony? Especially in the light of a new betrayal- will their relationship survive? Summary fml. M/M
1. Chapter 1

Hey everybody! Like I said, here's the next bit in the series that has taken over my life! Woo. Hopefully Felina Fullstop, who is a brilliantly sexy beast, will not mind my title.

I realize this first chapter is ridiculously short, but it is kind of necessary for the pacing.

I do not own Iron Man or anything.

Warning, I guess: This story will contain slash (DUH), angst, and mentions of lesbianing. If any of those offend you... uhhh, read something else?

~...~

Ivan Vanko is standing in the expansive kitchen of Tony Stark's mansion, attempting to figure out the stupid high-tech stove and grumbling to himself. It's been a month and a half since the billionaire got the villain off attempted murder charges, and Ivan is going a little stir-crazy waiting for his injuries to heal. The stitches came out a week ago, and his arm is only sore when he bends it the wrong way, but when he tried to leave the house to help Iron Man with a hostage situation, the hero, as Pepper puts it, "flipped a shit". The fact that Vanko managed to get himself thrown off a roof in the process led Stark to put him on official lockdown until his injuries are completely healed.

The door to the garage opens and the metallic clank of armored footsteps echoes up the stairs. "Honey, I'm ho-ome!"

Whiplash rolls his eyes and shakes his head as the still-suited superhero enters the kitchen, his mask retracting. "What's cookin', good lookin'?" Tony asks, in high spirits as he always is when he gets back from saving people. He sidles up behind the Russian and plants a quick peck on the back of his neck.

Ivan rolls the toothpick in his mouth in annoyance- Stark knows full well that such displays of affection piss Vanko off. He swats at the plated fingers that creep around his middle. "Pierogi," he replies, turning back to the stove and cursing when he sees that the dumplings resemble charcoal briquettes.

The American chuckles. "You know you can just ask Jarvis to whip something up, right? You don't have to mess around with the stove..."

The ex-con shrugs. "Having machine do everything for you makes you lazy."

"What? I'm not lazy!"

"Spoiled Amerikanski," Ivan says over his shoulder.

"Russian lunatic," Tony shoots back, sticking his tongue out like a petulant child.

The evil genius grins, dumps what's left of the pierogis into the garbage disposal and turns. Immediately, the cool metal of the suit is pressed against him as Iron Man leans in. Their mouths are inches away when Stark yelps and pulls back.

"Stabbed myself on the toothpick," he says sheepishly when the villain looks concerned.

Vanko snorts.

"Shut up," Tony says, laughing in spite of himself.

Ivan spits the toothpick into the garbage and leans forward, kissing the armored man properly. They remain like that for a long moment, enjoying each other's warmth, until the Russian breaks away and glances down at the suit, scanning it.

"Any damage?"

"Nah, the suit's fine. But I'm sweating like a pig in this thing; gotta install a new cooling system." Stark grins. "I think I need a shower. You want one?"

Whiplash shrugs again. "Had one yesterday."

"Uh, I think you must have misheard me. You want. A shower." Tony is already heading to the lab to have the armor removed. "Bathroom in five minutes?"

Vanko grudgingly nods, and allows himself a small chuckle once the hero is out of range. Knowing that the rest of his afternoon will most likely be spent in the bathroom (whether in the shower, on the floor, or against the wall), he grabs a bag of bird seed from the counter and makes for the garage where the Bird sleeps. (Tony is convinced that the Bird chose the garage as its roost just to poop on his cars and piss him off.)

Said avian is still asleep on its perch, head tucked under one wing. As quietly as possible, Ivan refills the food bowl, checks the water dish, and turns to head back upstairs.

He pauses. Something in the corner of his vision catches his attention and he turns, trying to will it to be a hallucination. He takes a few slow steps toward Tony's parked Audi R8, hand coming up involuntarily to grab the cloth hanging from the side mirror. He stands there for what could be a few seconds or an hour, staring down at the black silk panties in his palm.


	2. Chapter 2

Time seems to have been hamstrung; it comes screeching to a halt, silence crashing down around him in a muted cacophony. Ivan isn't sure if he feels sick or stunned or furious; all his motor functions seem to have failed, leaving him standing there with this silk-and-lace burden that weighs down on him, heavier than any jailhouse shackles.

"Ivan?" Tony's voice echoes down the stairs. "You down there?"

Vanko remembers to breathe just in time, answering. "Da. Coming."

"Not yet, I hope," Stark calls suggestively, laughter tingeing his reply.

Ivan glances around almost guiltily, stuffs the underwear into his pocket and heads back up.

"There you are!" Tony is practically buzzing with excitement, stripping off the form-fitting undershirt and briefs he's wearing and stepping forward to press against the Russian when he enters the bedroom. "What were you doing?"

"Feeding Bird." Ivan can't quite bring himself to look at Stark yet; he thinks if he looks at him right now he'll either punch him or turn and run.

"Is that thing still using Dummy as a perch?"

Vanko nods, feeling numb as the hero leans up and nuzzles a path up his neck. Of course, Tony, damn him, notices immediately and draws back.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Whiplash says automatically. "Not... feeling well."

"Oh." Ivan orders himself not to look at Stark's face, to see the disappointment there. The billionaire nods, smoothes his hands down the villain's chest. "You should lie down."

"Mm." Vanko steps out of the American's embrace and settles on the bed, turning over on his side to face the wall.

Tony stands for a few moments, hands opening and closing, sensing something is wrong but unable to do anything. "Okay. Well. Um. I'm gonna take a shower and get dressed... there's that party tonight."

"Da."

"Do you..." He clears his throat. "Do you want me to cancel it? I can; there's still time, if you're not-"

"No. Don't cancel; Pepper will kill you." Ivan's hands curl into fists against his chest. His mind churns and he hates himself for it; why does he feel so angry, so fucking _betrayed_? He shouldn't be angry; it's not like they're...

The hero chuckles. "Good point. Okay, get some rest." He walks over to the bed, runs a hand down Vanko's tense arm before turning and disappearing into the bathroom.

Ivan stares at the wall for another hour before falling asleep, his face frozen in a scowl.

Time: Several Hours Later

Location: Tony Stark's mansion

Occasion: Independence Day Party

Fun Fact: Everyone is hammered/partying like it's 1999!

Tony is drunk. This is nothing special; to say that Tony Stark is drunk is like saying that the Earth orbits the Sun. At the moment, he's leaning against the bar in the main room, enjoying the music and the glass of scotch in his hand, but honestly not having the best time. Not that he isn't fond of a party, the first he's held since his birthday- which didn't really count since he wasn't conscious for it- but this party is definitely lacking. He knows exactly what it's lacking, too: six grouchy, antisocial feet of Russian supervillain. Said villain is currently holed up in the bedroom, reading Nightwatch and scaring off drunken couples. Tony tried, at the beginning of the party, to convince him to at least come out for a few drinks, sit on the couch, socialize, but he was promptly shot down by an icy stare.

So here he is, the great Iron Man, sulking in the corner while beautiful people twist and gyrate to the base around him. He spots Rhodey at the other end of the bar, laughing at a joke. Pepper is nowhere to be seen; Stark thought he spotted her earlier dancing with some brunette, but he's pretty sure that was a drunken hallucination.

There's sudden movement to his left; he looks up to see a tall, leggy blonde, an Appletini in one hand, beaming at him as she leans against the wall next to him.

"Mr. Stark," she says, one foot lifting slightly off the floor, and he's done this dance so many times that it's as natural as breathing.

He smiles. "Please, call me Tony."

She does, murmuring his name like she's committing it to memory, like everyone in this house doesn't know who he is."I'm Alyssa," she croons.

She's _boring_, Tony realizes after about twenty seconds of conversation. But she's just like all the other women he's slept with; how did he never notice how boring they all were? _It's not that I didn't notice_, he thinks,_ I just never cared_.

More motion to his left; he glances up to see her leaning in, eyelids lowered, collagen-puffed lips parted. _Whooaa_ _hold_ _up_! He quickly places a hand on her hip, ready to push her away, and for a split second his eyes flick up and lock onto the figure in the doorway on the other side of the room.

Even across the room, separated by a sea of shifting bodies, the raw pain in Ivan's eyes hits Tony like a physical blow. He shoves Alyssa away, ignoring her drunken protest, and presses his way through the crowd, never taking his gaze off Vanko. The hurt in the Russian's eyes twists, turns to black fury, and he turns and storms back toward the bedroom.

_Shit shit shit_- Stark breaks through the partygoers and stumbles toward the door. "Ivan- wait!"

He's barely inside the bedroom when the villain's fist connects with the wall right next to his head. The plaster cracks, tiny crumbles falling onto Tony's shoulder as he freezes.

"_Сукин сын_!" (son of a bitch!) Whiplash is inches away, his gaze burning rage.

The hero raises his hands defensively. "Ivan, please, listen for just a-"

The taller man snarls, his fist still punched through the wall, and Tony sends an urgent message to his groin, telling it to _stand_ _down_ in spite of how much he's enjoying being pinned against a wall by the big Russian. "Ivan, I didn't- I wasn't gonna do anything! I swear, she was just drunk."

"You're drunk," Ivan growls.

"Of _course_ I'm drunk," Tony says, slowly bringing his hands up and placing them on Vanko's shoulders, attempting to calm him. "But- _listen_- but even drunk I'm not gonna- I'd never..."

Like someone's flipped a switch, the furious glare fades from Ivan's gaze and he turns away, pulling his hand free with another shower of plaster chips.

Tony pushes himself off the wall, following the ex-con. "Ivan."

Vanko stands facing the wall, hands in fists at his sides, shoulders slumped. Taking a risk, Iron Man reaches out and touches his arm, turning him. The look on the physicist's face comes as a shock- rather than anger, his expression is one of absolute defeat. His deep-set eyes are hidden by dark circles, and the lines beaten into his face by his life are like slashes in his skin. He looks exhausted, resigned.

"Ivan," Stark says again, still holding the villain's wrist. "What is it?"

Whiplash shakes his head. "Noth-"

Tony tightens his grip, not enough to hurt but enough to get Ivan's attention. "Don't say nothing; something's been bothering you all day. I know you're a big, tough criminal that doesn't talk about his 'feelings', and I'm kind of emotionally retarded, but c'mon. What. Is. It?"

"Earlier..." Ivan begins, then coughs and shakes his head again.

"Look, that girl wasn't-"

"Not just now." Vanko tries to shake his arm free, but Tony is persistent. "Earlier. In garage. This morning."

The hero frowns; when Ivan is upset about something he speaks in short sentences. When he starts speaking more in Russian than English, he's really upset. Tony is thankful that at least they haven't hit that warning sign yet.

At last, the scarred man sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the scrap of black silk. "Found these."

Tony takes the underwear, still frowning, turns them over and looks back up at Vanko, uncomprehending. "They must be... from the party last month, people tend to forget they're in someone else's house at parties and they get carried away-"

"In garage," Ivan finishes, looking away.

"In..." Stark falls silent. No one but the two of them and Pepper have the combination to the garage. "Oh."

They're both quiet, Vanko staring at the wall and Tony frantically trying to come up with an explanation. Horrible realization hits; he spent a solid week being blind drunk while Ivan was in jail. He doesn't remember anything. He looks up again to see Ivan watching him, waiting for an explanation. Hoping for one. The sick silence that fills the air is like a third person in the room with them. Finally, Whiplash nods slowly and steps away, pulling his arm free.

"Well," he says, not meeting the American's helpless stare. "Was only matter of time."

The words are eerily reminiscent of what Hammer said the day of Ivan's release; it's enough to knock Tony out of his paralyzed stupor. "What do you mean?" He asks hollowly.

"What do I mean? _Cмотрите на меня!_" (look at me!) Vanko turns suddenly in a rage, slamming his palm against the headboard so hard the bed shakes. His voice drops, anger gone in an instant. "_Что я должен предложить_?" (What do I have to offer?)

Once again, Tony is stunned into speechlessness for a few beats. "Ivan..."

The Russian sighs again, eyes closing for a moment, and then turns toward the door.


	3. Chapter 3

This fic is starting to depress me like none other, and it's definitely not the most angsty thing I've written. Not by a long shot. Go figure. At least I have my Tony/Ivan (or Tovan, as ALL THE COOL PEOPLE are calling it) playlist to keep me company, interspersed with random Repo songs (because Repo is THE SHIT no matter how many times Jude Law tries to steal the plotline in a crappy remake). Sorry, I'll stop ranting.

~::~

"Ivan, wait! Don't go, just-" Stark fumbles with his words, telling himself that Tony Stark does not beg, and then telling himself to shut up because he'll beg if he has to. A thought strikes. "Wait, Jarvis! Jarvis, check the security feed from the garage for that week-"

"Sir, if you'll recall, you ordered me to run system checks and updates on the cameras that week. They were offline." The computer manages to sound apologetic. "The scanners recorded authorized entries only."

"Fuck!" He scrambles after the villain, trips on a pair of shoes, and falls on his hands and knees as the door closes. "Ivan! Goddammit, Ivan, get back here!" He jumps up and goes lunging for the door just as it opens.

"Whoa! What the hell?" Pepper takes a step back, still blocking the doorway, and takes in her friend's disheveled appearance and wide, panicked eyes. "Okay, what just happened? You go sprinting away in the middle of the party, and five minutes later Ivan goes slamming out. What did you _do_?"

"I don't _know_!" Tony tries to push past her but she doesn't give. "I mean, I don't know for sure; I might've- he found- but I was drunk so I don't know, and Jarvis- and that girl tried to and he saw and he thought but I didn't at least I don't think I did-"

"Okay. Breathe." She grabs his shoulders, makes him look at her. "What happened?"

"Aaagh!" He tries once more to get by but she blocks him again. He takes a breath and tries again. "Some girl out there tried to kiss me and I wasn't gonna let her but Ivan saw and then he showed me these-"

"Showed you what?"

He holds up the panties. "-and he says he found them in the garage and I can't remember how they got there and now he's-"

"Oh shit. Oh," her eyes go wide and she grabs the underwear. "Oh god, Tony, I'm so sorry. These are from- they're mine; well, they're not mine, they're Yulia's and we just kind of- I'm so sorry!"

"They're Yulia's?" Tony stares at her in utter confusion. "What- how the hell did they get in the garage?"

"Ah- she came by with me and, um, I had to get something from the garage and um she really likes Mustangs, and, well, we..." She glances down. "Look, I was gonna tell you that we're... I just hadn't found the right moment yet..."

Too many realizations hit him at once, and for a second Stark's brain shuts down. The important points surface in his mind at lightning speed: The underwear is Yulia's. It did not get in the garage because of me. I did not fool around. Ivan is leaving and I should run after him. "I gotta go," he says breathlessly. "Remind me to kill you later."

"Go!" She jumps aside and he takes off.

"Jarvis!" He snaps as he skids through the kitchen, knocking over a tipsy couple.

"Sir?"

"Jarvis, where the hell is he? Tell me he's still in the house!"

"...Sir, he is not in the house."

"Mother-!"

"My scanners tell me that Mister Vanko is currently on the roof."

"What?" He spins around and makes for the stairs, leaping over the giggling, still-horizontal couple.

Ivan is sitting on top of the pointed roof of the observation tower, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped as he stares up at the vast expanse of the night sky. From up here, it's impossible to tell where the sky ends and the ocean begins. He doesn't turn when he hears the American approach.

"Ivan... what are you doing?"

"Thinking," he responds, eyes still scanning the heavens.

Tony takes a few nervous steps forward. "About what?"

"Not going to jump, Stark," the Russian says, half-glaring over his shoulder. "Not stupid."

"You wanna come down so we can talk, then?"

"Not much to talk about."

"Why are you still here, then?" The hero asks, taking another tense step.

"Waiting for people to leave," Vanko says, glancing down at the cars in the driveway. "So I can get Bird and go."

"No!" The word bursts out of Tony, louder than he intended, and for a second Ivan turns, looking worried, like he's expecting Tony to have slipped and fallen. Stark shakes his head urgently. "Don't go. They're- the underwear's not mine, it's Pepper's! I mean," he clears his throat. "Okay, that didn't help; I mean they belong to Yulia, who I guess... is Pepper's girlfriend. Yeah. Apparently they... got a little frisky on and in the R8."

A raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know. But Ivan, I swear to you... I didn't do anything. I wouldn't." Tony shuts his eyes as a gust of wind buffets him. When he opens them, Ivan is standing right in front of him, so suddenly and silently that the shorter man jumps back. "Jesus, you are a goddamn Russian ninja!"

That earns him a little smirk, half a chuckle. For a moment the light in Vanko's eyes carries the same grudging amusement as always, but it's gone in a stab of pained remembering and he turns away again, walking to the end of the flat roof.

Tony follows him, determined. "And look, that girl, at the party, she was just some drunk tart-"

"'Drunk tart' is all you ever take home," the ex-con says coldly.

"No, drunk tart is all I _used_ to take home." The hero replies quickly, coming to a halt a few paces behind the other man. He takes a breath and steps closer. "But then I took a risk- maybe a kind of stupid one, admittedly not made with my brain- and took a dangerous, criminally insane genius that tried several times to kill me home instead."

Ivan snorts, and Stark can practically hear him rolling his eyes. He continues anyway, inching closer. "I did that, and you know what? It's the best stupid risk I ever took. Ever." He laughs a little. "And believe me, I've taken a _lot_ of stupid risks." There's another quiet huff of laughter from the tattooed man. Tony forges onward, gaining momentum. "Listen. Yes, the girl was drunk. Yes, I'm drunk. Yes, she was hot. But... the thing is... I don't want her. Not even a little bit. I don't want any of those women; hell, any of those men, at that party. Or anywhere else." He takes a final step, leans forward and presses his forehead into the warm space between Vanko's shoulders, letting a heavy breath escape. "Please... say something."

Silence.

"Ivan... do you," he closes his eyes, opens them, tries again, forcing the words out. "Do you love me? Is that was this was all..." He trails off, hoping for an answer but not really expecting one. Over the years, Tony Stark has had countless people, usually desperate, beautiful women, tell him that they love him. He's probably heard those three words more than anyone else alive, and right now they're all he wants to hear. He closes his eyes against his companion's silence.

"Being attracted to someone... gives them power over you," Ivan says to the night air.

"Well... you can't be in control of everything," Tony says, trying to make it sound as lighthearted as possible. It works; Vanko snorts and throws back,

"Can try like hell."

It takes everything Stark has not to ball his hands into fists and rant, at Ivan, at himself, at the stupid girl whose name he's already forgotten, at Pepper and Yulia, at life in general for making him so fucking easy and Ivan so fucking broken. Instead he raises his arms and wraps them around Vanko's waist.

"Don't try."


	4. Chapter 4

YESSSSSS MICKEY ROURKE WON "BEST VILLAIN" IN THE SCREAM AWARDS! IVAN FOR THE WIN!

That is all.

~::~

Another gust of wind, surprisingly cool for this time of year, gusts across the roof, and Tony shivers against Ivan's back.

"Ivan."

A slight shift is the only indication that the Russian hears him.

"We can't stand up here all night. Eventually one of us is gonna have to move."

Vanko lets a long, weary sigh escape and turns, Tony's arms still around him. He realizes too late that turning was a bad idea; seeing the lost, pleading look on Stark's face derails any angry comebacks he has. He sighs again, lets one hand travel reluctantly upward, trailing briefly over the dim glow of the reactor, feeling the smaller man's pulse speed up, coming to rest with the tips of his fingers against the hero's cheek. Tony leans into the touch, pushing his cheek into Ivan's palm, his brown eyes never leaving the villain's hazel ones.

"What do you want from me?" Whiplash asks tiredly, and Stark looks confused.

"I want..." The billionaire stops, glances down, finally finishes, "I want... you to trust me."

The ex-con huffs and looks away. "Trusting is not something I do."

"Gee, really? I had no idea," Tony quips as the hand is withdrawn. He falters, fingers curling in the fabric of Vanko's shirt. "Please. Don't go."

Ivan frowns. "Just... need to think." He pushes away, prying the smaller man's hands free, and walks back to the stairs.

The hero waits until he hears the hatch shut before allowing himself to sink to his knees, a frustrated scream pulling at his throat as he fights to contain it. His hands ball into fists and he takes a slow breath, forcing the yell down. He waits, counting twenty beats before standing and turning toward the entrance.

The house is shockingly empty when he gets downstairs; he wonders just how long he and Ivan have been up on the roof. The only ones still around are Pepper and Yulia, sitting guiltily on the couch and watching him come down the stairs, the Bird perched on the redhead's shoulder.

"Where'd he go?" Tony asks tiredly, glancing around.

"The garage," Pepper says. "I think he changed the combination, too."

"Mother-" He walks over to the garage door and enters his combo and, sure enough, there's the quiet beep of rejection. He could override it, probably, but it would take a few minutes and he's sure Ivan would not appreciate the intrusion. He sighs and turns back to the sofa. "Where is everybody?"

"We told them the party had been moved to your yacht." Yulia waves toward the ocean below.

"I thought I sank my yacht like a year ago?" He grabs a bottle of what he hopes is alcohol off the counter and tries to take a swig, only to find it disappointingly empty.

"Eh, I figure it'll take them at least three hours to realize that," Pepper says with a shrug. "Which gives you some time, so sit down and talk."

"Talk about what?" Tony raises an eyebrow. "The fact that you two almost sabotaged my relationship by having sex in my car?"

Yulia goes red, but Pepper just stares him down. "The fact that you used the word 'relationship' just now, for starts."

"I did? What? No I didn't. So what if I did? I can say that word." He tosses the empty bottle in the recycling and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Tony. Sit down."

Tony sits down.

"Look... we're both sorry that we got you in trouble-"

"We'll never do it again, I promise!" Yulia blurts. "It was just such a fucking awesome car-"

"He'll get over it; he can buy twenty new R8s if he feels like it," Miss Potts pats the brunette's arm. "And that's not what we need to talk abut right now." She turns back to her former boss. "What we need to talk about is the problem with your boyfriend."

"Stop calling him that; it weirds me out." Tony shifts uncomfortably.

"The problem with your boyfriend!" The Bird echoes, preening.

Stark glares, wishing he could set things on fire with his mind. "Did you seriously teach it to say that?"

Pep shrugs again, hiding a grin. "Maybe." She shakes the smile away and fixes him with a stern gaze. "So what the hell happened?"

He sighs heavily. "Well, I told you about him finding... you know, the evidence in the garage, and then that woman at the party..."

They both nod, Pepper having informed Yulia of the situation.

"Well... yeah." He runs a hand through his hair. "He went up on the roof to, I dunno, sulk, so I went up after him, to explain."

"Did he listen?" Yulia asks, reaching up to pet the Bird.

"Yeah, kind of. When he had no other choice. Anyway, I told him that it was you guys in the garage, and that the girl at the party was just... stupid, and he seemed to sort of believe me."

"Did you use... you know, the 'L' word?"

He blinks vaguely. "...Lesbian?"

"What? No! The other 'L' word!"

"...Lesbian_s_?"

"You're really stuck on that, aren't you?" Pepper asks sardonically, and Yulia snorts.

Tony clasps his hands loosely. "He just... I dunno, he just seems like he's given up. Like he was set on leaving no matter what I said."

"But you don't want him to leave, do you?" Pepper leans forward a little, solemn.

"Of course not!" He replies without hesitation. "I want him to stay; isn't it obvious? I got him out of jail twice! I punched Hammer in the face for trying to take him! I fought for him, I want him to stay because- because I-"

He looks up and realizes that both women are watching him with what Pepper calls "awwww" smiles, the kind of smile she usually gets when watching "Up".

"What?" He snaps.

"Nothing," the redhead shakes her head. "I think you should go talk to him now." She stands, leaving the Bird on the arm of the couch, and she and Yulia walk toward the front door. "We'll head out; direct people toward their cars." She gives him a quick slug in the shoulder. "You can do it. You're Tony Stark, remember?"

"Myeah."

"Good luck!" Yulia calls over her shoulder.

Luck.

Yeah.

He needs some of that.


	5. Chapter 5

Holy mother of a son, this chapter is a LONG time coming. Sorry bout that!

~X~X~

Tony isn't aware of holding his breath until a stab of pain runs through his chest; he sucks in a gasp of air and forces a hand up, ready to knock- but the door swings open and he stumbles forward, almost crashing into the sudden wall of Russian that looms in front of him. He recovers quickly, standing and offering a hesitant, sheepish grin. Ivan is silent, his face shadowed, but he takes a step back to allow entrance.

Vanko closes the door, stands facing away from the American for a moment like he's gathering his thoughts. Tony takes the opportunity to scan the garage, wondering what the villain's been doing in here, but everything seems intact.

He leans against a car, trying to make his expression neutral- trying to keep the anxiety from his voice when he says, "I'm kind of surprised to see the Audi still in one piece," he tries to smile again, fails. "I expected you to have... I dunno, ripped the engine out, put a tire iron through the window or something."

No response- just the cold, bottomless well of silence that Whiplash so often uses to stonewall people. It's like a vacuum, draining every sound from the air.

"Ivan," Tony says quietly, "please talk to me."

The Russian starts to say something, stops, shaking his head, and turns at last. "I am not good at... saying things. About myself."

Tony bites back the immediate "No really, I couldn't tell" that rises in his throat.

Ivan shakes his head again. "I do not trust. I do not talk. These things keep me alive. Only..." He growls, looks away like he's thinking of just dropping the matter and leaving, and Tony steps in, catches his shoulder, smiles as reassuringly as possible, and after a moment Vanko continues, intense stare burning into Stark. "Only you. I talk only to you. I trust..." He pauses, kneads his forehead, and the brief quiet feels like a knife in Tony's gut, twisting with each second that passes as he waits. Ivan looks at him, and for the first time in god knows how many years, his defenses are gone. The wary, battle-hardened criminal is gone, just for an instant, and only pain and exhaustion and shocking openness remain. Slowly, the Russian lifts one hand, brushes Tony's face in the gesture that's become known to the American as the official Ivan-is-about-to-open-up gesture as he finishes, "I trust only you." The hand drops, Vanko's eyes turning away as he mutters, "And I think that maybe I am crazy for it. I am meant to hate you. I have hated you."

He turns those deep, scarred eyes back to Stark one last time and says, so quietly it's almost imperceptible, "I do not hate you anymore. I..." He can't quite say it, can't make the words form, but Tony doesn't need to hear them; he can speak for both of them.

"I love you," the words flow from him so easily now, like he's practiced them a thousand times before, and he's leaning in and pressing a kiss to the taller man's parted lips and saying it once feels like such a relief that he says it again. "I love you, Ivan, god, I love you-" his murmurs are cut off by the villain's mouth connecting with his, firm and real and he leans into it, curls his arms around Ivan's hips and draws their bodies together, close enough for Vanko to feel the heat from the reactor through their shirts.

They pull apart, Ivan's eyes still closed, and Tony smiles with hesitant fondness. The Russian's eyes flick open, his expression soft and almost tender. He catches himself, tries to frown once more, but it comes through as only a wry half-grimace. He aims a casual slug at the billionaire's arm.

"Owww! What was that for?" Stark rubs his arm in annoyance.

"I ever catch you with anyone, I kill them and cut off your arms and legs so you cannot leave bed."

"That sounds reasonable." Tony relents, slipping his hands up the inside of Whiplash's shirt. "You know what else sounds reasonable?"

"Hmm?"

He leans in, nuzzles the hollow of Ivan's throat. "Bed."

The villain glares. "You think you can just sweet-talk me into sex?"

The American blinks innocently. "Can't I?"

The glare deepens. "...Da."


End file.
